


even if it takes a while

by toomoon (jjjat3am)



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 17:57:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17771537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/toomoon
Summary: Geonhak had always liked showing his affection with touch but had grown almost wary of it after his voice had dropped low and his shoulders filled in, too aware of the image he presented to the world without even trying. Being with the members made it easier.orfive times Leedo carried the members of ONEUS





	even if it takes a while

**Author's Note:**

> This all started because of a [video](https://youtu.be/HP1YcRtgWZs?t=64) where Leedo carries both Seoho and Hwanwoong on his back without breaking a sweat. It spiraled from there.
> 
> It isn't tagged with any pairings, though there are hints, I suppose. You can read into them as far as you want. I'm big on multishipping anyway.
> 
> Big thanks to Lynne, for making sure I was doing honorifics correctly

 

 

*

 

  1. RAVN



 

*

 

He’d known Ravn from long before he was Ravn, back when he was still only Youngjo, with skinny wrists and features too big for his face, and the YG trainees rumor mill marked them both as having potential, not that that would end up meaning anything in the end.

 

Back then, he only thought of himself as Geonhak and he still believed that most people were basically good and that hard work would lead to success. He’d only learn later that things were very rarely ever so black and white, though Youngjo thankfully had very little to do with that realization.

 

They were still just boys back then, sleeping in too cramped rooms, always tired, always aching, always a little hungry, but driven and doing the best they could under the circumstances. 

 

Geonhak knew of Youngjo more than he knew him, much too busy keeping himself afloat in a world where friends could disappear with every bi-yearly evaluation. 

 

It made sense that it took a few months for them to drift solidly into each other’s orbits, though that never stopped Geonhak wishing it had happened sooner.

 

Youngjo stood out, though Geonhak had never been sure if he knew or cared that he did. He wore his thin coat with more elegance than almost anyone else in their hastily cobbled group of friends, and he walked with a confidence that Geonhak felt jealous of. Youngjo looked unflinchingly cool, watching the world with the dispassion of someone who knew they were meant for greatness.

 

Geonhak expected to dislike him on sight.

 

Instead, Youngjo sidled up to him as they walked, in a group of trainees with steadily rotating names that Geonhak could barely keep track of. The group walked mostly aimlessly, the air filled with chatter about food. Someone wanted sushi, while another talked dreamily about fried chicken, prompting a few others to pipe in with suggestions for meals increasingly out of their budget. It was very likely that they would end up eating ramen and hard-boiled eggs at the convenience store down the block, but talking about it was comforting.

 

Youngjo didn’t join the chatter, just fell into step with Geonhak and offered him a smile that transformed his stern face into something sweeter and much more welcoming.

 

“I like your rap,” he said, quietly, and Geonhak barely heard him over the voices around them. He thought he had misheard at first. It had been a while since someone had complimented him without following it up with criticism.

 

“Thank you,” Geonhak said, hoping that he sounded less surprised than he felt. “You’re, uh, really cool, Youngjo-shi.”

 

“Call me hyung,” Youngjo said immediately, practically beaming. 

 

“Hyung,” Geonhak repeated, flushing shy and pleased when Youngjo’s smile widened.

 

They fell into easy conversation. Geonhak loved music, enough to dream about being able to build a life around it, and Youngjo knew music. He talked about musicians that Geonhak had never heard of, and many that he had, all without making him feel included instead of patronized. Geonhak wouldn’t admit it later, but he was a little enthralled by him back then. 

 

They talked all through dinner, huddled together at the table on hard plastic chairs, and Geonhak ate his noodles slowly so he’d have an excuse to stay out longer, until they looked around and realized that everyone from their group had gone, leaving them to walk back alone.

 

With full bellies and the absence of prying eyes, the atmosphere turned playful. Youngjo teased him, calling him cute, until Geonhak was furiously red, and felt comfortable enough to lean into his side to poke at his stomach in retaliation.

 

Youngjo was ticklish. He backed away with threats he could barely choke out around his giggles, and Geonhak gave chase, delighted, as they ducked through a park, laughing and shrieking loud enough to definitely disturb the nearest residents.

 

Finally, Youngjo escaped out of reach, and up a stone wall, just wide enough for him to step comfortably. Geonhak’s head came up to his hip because the wall wasn’t actually that tall at all, but he was suddenly afraid of all the ways Youngjo could get hurt if he fell, so he backed off, listening to their laughter dissipate into the evening air. 

 

Youngjo sat, legs dangling, and Geonhak leaned on the wall next to him, feeling the coolness of the stone soak through his clothes. 

 

The park offered some measure of distance from the rest of the world, the trees muffling the sound of traffic from the road and a streetlight barely lighting the path under their feet. In the shadows, Youngjo’s silhouette looked much like his later namesake, as he seemed to Geonhak rather like a big bird, perched on top of the wall and squinting up at the sky as if trying to catch some glimpse of stars. 

 

Even years later, this would be the clearest memory Geonhak had of that night, the chill of the stone against his back, and Youngjo’s profile, dark against the sky.

 

“We should go,” Youngjo’s voice broke the comfortable silence they’d fallen into. “We’ll miss curfew.”

 

Geonhak had no idea what time it was, but Youngjo sounded so regretful that he believed him. The evening felt like it was ending too abruptly. He felt almost like Youngjo had given him a gift, and he didn’t know if he’d done enough to deserve it.

 

He was watching Youngjo eye the distance to the ground when he got an idea. He took a few steps forward, presenting his back.

 

“What are you doing?” Youngjo asked. Geonhak couldn’t see his face and honestly, he didn’t think he could look. Something coiled hot and embarrassed in his chest.

 

“Hop on,” he said, relieved that his voice didn’t waver. Youngjo was quiet for a moment and he could hear him shifting a little, clothes brushing against the stone.

 

“Are you sure?” Youngjo’s voice sounded hesitant. “I’m heavy.”

 

“I’m pretty strong,” Geonhak told him. He wasn’t boasting. He was reasonably confident in his strength.

 

Youngjo’s hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder and Geonhak barely managed not to jump. He took a step back, close enough that he could hear Youngjo breathing and feel the displacement of air as he shifted.

 

Youngjo’s arms came around his shoulders, clasping at the front. Geonhak could feel when he tipped forward, body weight settling fully on his back. He put his hands under Youngjo’s knees to settle him more comfortably and grinned at his involuntary gasp.

 

Youngjo wasn’t heavy, but he was solid, and warm all along his back. After a moment, he hooked his chin over his shoulder, laughing quietly. Geonhak started walking and laughed as Youngjo clung whenever they passed a pothole.

 

He carried him all the way back to the YG building, and his arms and back ached for it, but the way Youngjo looked at him after, surprised, and pleased, and almost a little shy, made it worth it.

  
  


*

 

  1. Xion



 

*

  
  


“Xion misses his brother,” Youngjo told him and it took Geonhak a split second to remember that he was referring to Dongju. They were all trying to practice their stage names now that they had them. Nobody wanted to be accidentally caught off guard on a broadcast.

 

“Okay,” Geonhak said, slowly. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

 

Youngjo shrugged. “He likes you,” he said, “you should go talk to him.”

 

Geonhak swallowed down his first retort and then the second. It wouldn’t be polite to say them to someone older, though he was tempted. He was tired, they all were, and tempers were fraying. Dance and vocal practice, and the ever-looming date of debut hung heavy over them. Most days he just wanted to sleep, which was coincidentally what he was planning on doing before he found Youngjo stretched out with a notepad in the hallway. 

 

He always got stuck in the strangest places when he was writing.

 

Youngjo watched him struggle in silence, tapping his fingers on the paper. He didn’t say anything else, but Geonhak could tell he expected something. After a moment of internal conflict, Geonhak sighed.

 

“Fine, I’ll talk to him,” he said, and Youngjo’s expression softened into something that was hard to look at with discontent still burning a pit in Geonhak’s stomach. 

 

“Thank you,” Youngjo said, softly, relief obvious in his tone. It made Geonhak feel guilty, for almost snapping. As he passed him, Youngjo reached out to catch his hand, briefly squeezing it before letting go. When Geonhak looked at him again, he was back to staring at the notepad, frowning.

 

He knocked quietly on the room that Dongju shared with him and Youngjo. There was no response, so he swung the door open and stuck his head in. The room was shadowed, the curtains half-drawn, letting in only a sliver of light. 

 

There was a Dongju shaped lump under the blankets on the top bunk that Geonhak usually slept in. Usually, he would have scolded him for taking his bed but Dongju peeked at him over the top of his blanket with dark, watery eyes and all notion of anger fled, only to be replaced by concern. 

 

“Hey,” Geonhak said softly, stepping so he was eye level with the bed, “what’s wrong, huh? Ravn-hyung told me you weren’t feeling well.”

 

Dongju shook his head and avoided his eyes. Geonhak noticed he was curled up around the big stuffed dog he called Doongdoongie. Dongmyeong had given it to him as a gift. Now Dongju was clutching the dog in a white-knuckled grip, almost hard enough to rip it.

 

Geonhak sighed softly and reached out to smooth Dongju’s hair away from his face. He didn’t move away, just stared up at Geonhak with eyes that looked huge in the half-light of the window. He touched Dongju’s hand where it was gripping the stuffed animal and squeezed.

 

“You didn’t wash your face properly,” Geonhak said gently. “It’ll make your eyes sting if you don’t take all the makeup off.”

 

“Sorry,” Dongju whispered, his voice thick. Geonhak’s chest hurt, looking at him, so he looked at their hands instead, where Dongju’s death grip on the toy was slowly easing.

 

“Why don’t we go to the bathroom to wash your face and then we can watch a movie in the living room?” Geonhak asked, as softly as he was able. All that answered him was another sniffle. 

 

Dongju liked company, but once he was like this he tended to shut himself away, spending the spare hours in bed or writing into his journal. Geonhak was determined to not let that happen. 

 

“Come on,” he said, trying for persuasive, “I’ll even carry you, how’s that?”

 

Dongju shifted on his bunk. It was an enticing offer, Geonhak knew. Dongju liked being carried. 

 

“Okay,” Dongju said finally, unclenching his fists to reach out so Geonhak could pick him up. It was almost unfairly adorable. Geonhak took his hands and wrapped them around his neck, turning so Dongju could climb onto his back. He was the lightest among the members, though not the easiest to carry because he tended to wiggle in excitement.

 

This time, he just reached out to grab Doongdoongie off the bed and buried his face into Geonhak’s neck, almost uncomfortably still.

 

They made a brief stop in the bathroom, where Geonhak had carefully wiped off Dongju’s face and didn’t say anything about wiping tear tracks along with makeup. Then, he deposited Dongju on the living room couch and put on a musical, one of those animated ones that he could never really get into but Dongju seemed to adore and cuddled up next to him. Dongju immediately latched onto him, keeping the other hand around the stuffed toy.

 

Slowly, the rest of the members drifted in, attracted by the music. Youngjo came to sit next to the window with his notepad, though Geonhak caught him looking at him and Dongjo more than he saw him writing. Seoho came in, squeezing next to Dongjo on the couch with an excited shriek, and Hwanwoong laid across all of their laps because he was the only one that fit. Keonhee was last, graciously taking the floor with a big blanket, resting his head on Youngjo’s stomach. 

 

Surrounded by the members, Dongju’s grip on the stuffed dog slowly eased, until he had no problem passing it down to Keonhee to use as a pillow. He kept holding on to Geonhak though. 

 

And honestly? He couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

  
  


*

 

  1. Hwanwoong



 

*

  
  


Most of the time, Hwanwoong was fairly easy to read. He didn’t quite share Youngjo’s propensity towards oversharing his thoughts and emotions, but if something upset him, he said so upfront, and if he needed a cuddle, he went and sat on the nearest member for a while. 

 

Hwanwoong also tended to push himself more than any of them. As a fellow dancer, Geonhak understood the urge to push your body past its limits, but Hwanwoong danced with a casual disregard to his well-being that was only matched by Seoho’s tumbling. On the whole, it seemed to work out for him well enough. 

 

But sometimes it didn’t.

 

Sometimes, Geonhak found Hwanwoong slumped over in the practice room, having fallen asleep between steps, unhindered by the loud music that had long moved on from the song he’d been choreographing.

 

There was a brief heart-stopping moment when Geonhak caught sight of his unnatural position and thought he wasn’t breathing. But then Chunga’s song on the stereo reached its chorus and Hwanwoong’s limbs twitched as if he was going to start dancing in his sleep, and Geonhak breathed an exasperated sigh of relief. 

 

He turned off the music and Hwanwoong barely stirred. Geonhak tidied up around the room, throwing away the empty water bottles and putting away papers, and he still made no indication that he was in any way aware of his presence.

 

It wasn’t until Geonhak kneeled to carefully shake his shoulder that Hwanwoong finally opened his eyes. He made an incoherent noise and closed them right after, but at least he was actually still alive.

 

“C’mon, wake up,” Geonhak said, amused despite himself. “Keonhee got worried when you didn’t get home at midnight and he sent me to get you.”

 

Hwanwoong muttered something under his breath.

 

“What?” Geonhak asked, reaching up to smooth Hwanwoong’s hair off his face. It was sweaty and he grimaced down at his hand, wiping it on his pants.

 

“You can just leave me here to sleep,” Hwanwoong slurred, nuzzling his head into the dirty floor. Geonhak winced but didn’t try to stop him. “I’ll be the first one to practice. It’ll be great.”

 

He trailed off into more sleepy mumbles and settled more comfortably on the floor. Geonhak sighed. 

 

It was probably lucky that Hwanwoong was as small he was, although Geonhak would never say that to him. He valued his life. Hwanwoong being compact made him optimal for hugging, cuddling and eliminated the need for additional seating. It also meant that when Hwanwoong exhausted himself half to death, Geonhak felt reasonably confident that he could carry him home.

 

He put his arm around Hwanwoong’s waist and under his knees, lifting him as carefully as he could into a bridal carry, trying not to jostle him too much. Dangling in the air woke Hwanwoong up briefly. He contemplated Geonhak’s chest for a moment, before shrugging and burying his face in it with a satisfied sigh, hands coming up to wrap around his neck.

 

The night guard at the practice facility was kind enough to open the doors for them so they could exit. He didn’t even look particularly surprised at the sight of Hwanwoong in Geonhak’s arms. Likely because Geonhak had had to do this twice in the last week alone. 

 

They were all dealing with their pre-debut stress in different ways. Hwanwoong practiced until he dropped and beyond, and Geonhak got to carry him home and tuck him into bed for Youngjo and Seoho to fuss over. It wasn’t really a bad deal. He got some excellent strength training from hauling Hwanwoong’s tiny ass halfway around Seoul.

 

Hwanwoong made an incoherent sound into his neck that could have been anything between “I love you,” and “Get back into formation.” He let Geonhak carry him, soft and trusting. 

 

It was lucky that almost no one was out on the street at that hour, because Geonhak really didn’t want anyone seeing the goofy smile on his face.

  
  


*

  
  


  1. Keonhee



  
  


*

  
  


Geonhak was just stepping out of the bathroom when he heard it.

 

As a rule, their dorm was generally pretty quiet. Maybe that was surprising considering it hosted six boys, but usually, by the time they got back to their rooms, everyone was dead exhausted. Occasionally the silence would be disturbed by Dongju and Hwanwoong giggling over something, or sounds from Youngjo’s improvised studio, or their neighbors watching TV a bit too loudly.

 

The bloodcurdling scream that echoed through the apartment came as a bit of a surprise. 

 

Geonhak flinched, palm coming to rest over his suddenly racing heart. The scream sounded like it could have come straight from a horror movie and he was just considering the probability of an ax murderer entering their home unannounced when one of the doors down the hall banged open. 

 

A moment later, he was almost bowled over by a dark blur that jumped into his arms with a high-pitched shriek. It took some time to coordinate his arms around Keonhee’s too long limbs as he clung to him tightly, head buried in Geonhak’s collarbone.

 

Keonhee’s legs were locked around his waist, his fingers pressing too-hard into his back, and he was muffling soft distressed noises into Geonhak’s chest. He was also trembling all over, hard enough that Geonhak had to adjust his grip on his thighs so he wouldn’t fall. With both his hands occupied, he pressed his cheek to Keonhee’s hair and tried to make his voice as soft and calm as possible.

 

“It’s okay,” he said, softly, as Keonhee’s grip on him tightened, “you’re okay. What happened?”

 

Keonhee removed his face from Geonhak’s collarbone to audibly yell, “There was a skeleton!” before going back to anxiously muttering into his chest. Over his shoulder, Geonhak saw Seoho and Dongju appear in the square of the doorway, with identical slightly guilty expressions on their faces. In his hands, Seoho had a mask with a painted skeleton, the cheap kind that would never ever fool anybody.

 

Except for their scaredy-cat of a main vocal, apparently.

 

Geonhak sighed and carried on talking to Keonhee in a low, calming voice until his trembling subsided and the death grip he had on his shoulders eased. By the time Keonhee’s tear-stained face removed itself from his collarbone, Geonhak’s arms were aching harder than after a two-hour workout. 

 

It was at that moment that the tears cleared from Keonhee’s eyes and he seemed to notice their positions. He looked down, at where the towel around Geonhak’s waist had come loose and dropped on the floor, and promptly let out another ear-splitting shriek.

 

Geonhak quietly resigned himself to an afternoon with a headache and a lot of innuendos.

  
  


*

  
  


  1. Seoho 



  
  


*

 

Geonhak was startled awake when something warm pressed against his back. He made a noise under his breath, confused about where he was for a moment, and the body behind him shook with laughter.

 

“Just me,” Seoho whispered, from where he was tucked between Geonhak’s body and the back of the couch. “You looked cozy. I thought I’d join you.”

 

Geonhak settled down, awareness slowly filtering in. The shape of Seoho’s body was familiar at this point, all sharp bones and sinew and warmth. He smelled clean and fresh, and a little like their shared body wash. His damp bangs tickled the skin on the back of his neck, where he’d buried his nose, presumably to hide from the light.

 

The house was quiet around them, the result of a rare afternoon off for all of them. Dongju was visiting with his brother at the ONEWE dorm and Youngjo had taken the rest shopping, while he and Seoho stayed behind. Seoho was in his room when Geonhak had laid down on the couch, under the pretense of resting his eyes, and promptly fell asleep. Seoho must have gotten bored, or lonely.

 

Though he was awful at expressing his feelings, a fact that drove Youngjo up the wall on a daily basis, Seoho was the most physically affectionate out of all of them. He was the one most likely to hook his head over Hwanwoong’s shoulder, or sit in Youngju’s lap, or tangle his fingers with Keonhee’s or return Dongju’s playful kisses. He was perceptive too, knew when someone needed his touch, or when to keep his distance, though the latter was needed less and less as they all settled down in each other’s pockets, taking up space in their hearts.

 

Geonhak had always liked showing his affection with touch but had grown almost wary of it after his voice had dropped low and his shoulders filled in, too aware of the image he presented to the world without even trying. Being with the members made it easier. Being with Seoho, especially, made it almost effortless. 

 

“I can almost hear you thinking,” Seoho whispered against his ear, his smile audible in his voice. “Relax. Go back to sleep.”

 

Geonhak sighed softly, obediently letting go of his thoughts and relaxing further into Seoho’s embrace. He felt safe, almost small, surrounded by Seoho’s warmth, his hand heavy and reassuring across his stomach. The last thing he felt, before drifting off, was a soft kiss pressed behind his ear.

 

*

 

Geonhak woke up to the sound of muted laughter, and something soft and wet pressed to his cheek. He opened his eyes to light and a great view up Dongju’s nostrils from where he was hovering above him, grinning. 

 

Seoho made a sound of protest behind him, his arm tightening around his middle. Geonhak met Hwanwoong’s knowing gaze across the room and felt himself flush. 

 

“Sleepy hyungs,” Dongju said in a scolding voice, obviously teasing. Geonhak made a face at him and he laughed again, rocking back on his heels. The stress of the last few weeks had fallen off his face, and he looked soft and carefree in the muted light. After a moment of contemplation, he lost interest, crawling over to where Hwanwoong was sprawled on the floor with Doongdoongie under his head, and promptly flopped down on his chest with a muted thump. 

 

Geonhak sat up and because Seoho was still clinging to him, he got dragged up with the motion, promptly burying his face between Geonhak’s shoulder blades.

 

There was the sound of clinking pots and pans from the kitchen, where Keonhee was making dinner with Youngjo’s assistance that was probably more of a hindrance, though tolerated with fond exasperation. 

 

Geonhak let the moment wash over him. The smells from the kitchen, the muted sound of Hwanwoong and Dongju’s voices, and Seoho’s warmth pressed against his back. It felt like a little bubble, just for them, where things were good and calm and safe, and Geonhak closed his eyes, a little overwhelmed and a lot grateful.

 

Keonhee’s low voice called them to dinner and Geonhak listened to the movement of feet as their youngest made a dash for the table. Behind him, Seoho grumbled sleepily and made no indication of loosening his grip on his chest. Geonhak shrugged mentally and opened his eyes, reaching back to rearrange Seoho’s limbs so he could lift him comfortably. Seoho barely reacted, just tightened his grip a little. 

 

Geonhak joined the others at the table, dropping Seoho into his own seat, and it was lucky that no one asked him why he was smiling so widely. He couldn’t have explained it. Not without sounding sappy, anyway.

  
  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to let me know what you thought by leaving me a comment below. You can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/leewoong), where I've been deeply entrenched in ONEUS hell for the past couple of months.


End file.
